Live Your Yoga

photo courtesy of Simon Andrews

Om and Garden is closing. The first yoga studio I officially taught at in Colorado Springs. I’m torn by it. I love that little studio. We’ve been through a lot together. My energy, and that of my students, have helped to create that sacred space. And it is sacred. Everything will be fine, though. Kim is making the right decision for herself, and I honor her for that. I know how difficult it is to let go of such a monumental part of your life. And I expect she’ll go through a grieving process. (Lucky for her, she gets to go through that process in Hawaii ) I had considered taking over the studio, and perhaps getting a few more teachers in there. But the rent is just too high to take on as a commitment. I’m very serious about the commitments I make. That’s why I make so few of them.

All will be well. Someone will come along to create their own brand of magic in the space. And I’m sure that they’ll be grateful to be there. As was I. In the meantime, I’ll continue to teach elsewhere. They don’t have quite the same feel, but I’m continually thankful that the spaces exist, so that those who come seeking can find (hopefully) what they’re looking for.

I’m subbing a last minute class tonight for a friend. I had planned on having an evening at home with the family and some quiet time with the moon. It’s full tonight. But I figured, a little yoga thrown in the mix can only love it up that much more.

So I suppose my lesson for the day is this: Embrace change. Whether it’s coming up or happening right now, this moment.

Be in it. Breathe in it. And find the bliss in it.

Peace out, y’all.

One of my students brought me a dozen eggs today in lieu of payment. The eggs came from her very own chickens. Does it get any better than that? I think not.

Here’s the thing. At least, it’s the thing for me. A yoga class that lasts about an hour and fifteen, generally feels like at least 3 hours for the teacher. Not in a bad way. It’s just the energy expenditure that goes into it. So after a day of teaching 2 or 3 classes, I am absolutely exhausted. On top of that, I also used to spend way too much time planning my classes. You know, this particular sequence for the warm up, this pranayama exercise, this reading. W2 to W1 to Parvrita Trikonasana… and on and on and on.

I don’t plan my classes anymore. I made a comment to my husband this morning while gathering my belongings for class and my daughter for school, that it was good that I didn’t plan my classes anymore, otherwise I wouldn’t have time for anything else. Yes, this was an exaggeration. And yes, I do still plan my classes occasionally. When I mentioned this to Niko this morning, and also asked if it was terrible that I didn’t, he made a good point: if I take the time to plan, and then my student base is completely different than the class I originally intended, well, what really is the point? That is the point.

When I was in teacher training, the instructor said this: There is the class you plan to teach, the class you actually teach, and then the class you wish you would have taught. God was she right.

This is something that you learn only by practice. When you’re fresh out of teacher training, you spend countless hours with your pen and paper, your notes, your mat. You work on perfecting your class design. It’s necessary. Eventually, you begin to figure out that even without the plan, everything will be alright.

So when I got to class this morning, intending to at least make some sort of standing practice sequence, in walked 2 new students. The first, with a recently broken wrist, in therapy, and having only practiced yoga by video and not for a number of years. The second (husband of first) had been to yoga classes about a decade ago, and had no admitted experience. He asked if it was necessary that he take his shoes off.

So here is where my husband’s point was proven. I had to throw everything out the window. Here was my vinyasa class, minus the downdog, updog, and absolutely everything that puts pressure on the wrists. As well as most of the flow in itself, as I was breaking down most of the poses to allow for complete comprehension. The class turned into a beginner’s foundation. It was fun, and a great lesson for me as a teacher.

My noon class turned out to be equally spontaneous. With only 2 students, and both regulars, it allowed for a nice environment of intimacy. On top of that, we spent the first ten minutes or so chatting and giggling, our own brand of yoga. I practiced through most of the class with them, and used my own body to guide our next move. That is the real vinyasa, right? Letting the breath guide the body into its perfect form.

So the day was a great reminder that, once again, everything will be okay. There is no reason to doubt, or panic, if you don’t have the perfect class plan mapped out with extensive detail… Chill. And let the flow begin.

I first discovered yoga twelve years ago, but I cannot say that I’ve been practicing yoga for twelve years. I knew from that moment of discovery however, that I had found something special. I didn’t know the depth of that realization. I only recognized the physical manifestation of health that my body exuded after asana practice. Pranayama found its way to me in bits and pieces in the beginning, as well as other yogic practices that I knew naught. Following Hittleman’s 28 day plan, I experienced things that I couldn’t name. I practiced Uddiyana bandha without truly knowing what systems of my body I was affecting. There was innocence then and a simple love for the experience.

I didn’t know about my edge until I took my first class, and even then, it wasn’t labeled an edge. It was taking my boundaries to new levels and moving to that point of ‘sweet discomfort’. It was watching my first teacher move through Paschimottanasana trying to explain to me how she was moving from her hips, not her waist, and not rounding her back; something completely foreign to me at the time. Now, all these years later I can experience that moment differently. I can appreciate and understand what she was trying to express. I can feel my spine lengthening as I grow out from my hips, the crown of my head shining forward. The awareness that has come out of the experience of the practice has been invaluable.

I’ve been through a few trainings, many workshops, and countless yoga classes over the last decade of my life. I thought that I had certain things figured out. What I’m discovering is that most of it has been an illusion.

The second yoga class I ever took, the teacher saw something in me that inspired her to take me under her wing. Soon after, I began to substitute her classes. Because of that experience, I thought it was my destiny to be a yoga teacher. I remember getting so nervous before every class, something that I still occasionally do. The sweaty palm, shaky voice kind of nervousness. For years after that, I had a boyfriend that said I was never going to be a yoga teacher and that I didn’t have what it took. I believed him even though I pretended not to, and spent many years trying to prove us both wrong.

I think the point I’m trying to make here is that all this time I’ve been trying to be a yoga teacher for someone else. Even up until my last training, I was still living with delusions of my ‘false self’ and continue to sometimes question if I’m beyond that. A part of my reasoning for undertaking the Kripalu program was because I thought that I needed it. More training equals more confidence. And that’s what I needed to be the yoga teacher. Confidence. What I’ve discovered through this process is that I’ve used confidence (part of the illusion) as an excuse to keep going, and that I’m not sure why I’m teaching yoga in the first place. I’m not sure if I even want to anymore, or if I ever did. And most importantly, that that’s okay.

I took a training to become a better yoga teacher. I took another training because my ego told me to. My higher self was being silent throughout and letting my ego take the lead. She knew the real reason I needed the Kripalu program. She knew I needed to come back to the beginning to find again the simple love for the experience. Kripalu brought me back into my body, where somehow my higher self knew that I desperately longed to be. I remembered that I loved being there.

My yoga has changed. Not in the way I teach it necessarily. Not yet. Though I do find myself bringing a specific Kripalu-esqe style into my classes, I feel like it was always there, I just didn’t register the origin. I can see an evolution coming soon. I’m crawling out of a box. I’m not sure if when I emerge, I’ll stop being a ‘yoga teacher’, or if I will just change the way I teach. I don’t know. I do know that I love yoga. Love. And that it will be a part of the rest of my life. I also continue to feel deep connections to being a teacher, period. How the two come together is really not important.

I thought a lot about what I wanted to touch on in this post, what I wanted to convey about my Kripalu experience. In the end, I took my pen to paper with a blank slate and an empty mind. My heart spoke, and this is what she said:

I made a comment one morning during sharing, and touched on it again earlier in this writing, about how my yoga was changing. I understand now what that means. My yoga is finally in the process of becoming mine. I am changing from those preconceived notions of what I thought yoga was supposed to be in my life. Through the influences and teachers in my life, I have become a version of those teachings. I am not inferring that this is a bad thing. I am only expressing the lesson that I have learned about my own individual nature. I also know now that it will continue to evolve. I am not restricted to a single teacher or philosophy. And though I have highly respected teachers in my life that I adore immensely, and will continue to do so and learn from, I am not destined to be just an example of their teaching.

I’m not sure what will happen next. I only know that I am now more at ease with the mystery.

I cannot say that it was Kripalu yoga specifically that brought me to these conclusions; conclusions that are not just about how I practice yoga, but how I live my life. I do know however that I came to these realizations during and after my experience in the program and that without it, I may not have done so. These teachings I will cherish, and from them I know that I will continue to grow.

Annoyed. Bothered. Quite honestly on the edge of absolute pissiness.

What brings me to these feelings of negativity, you ask? Oh yogini of gratitude?

Need I say more?

Daylight savings time.

I’ve been dreading it for weeks. Compiling this momentum of passionate frustration into imaginary letters to my government officials. Knowing that it was going to come, and at least for this time around, that I wasn’t going to be able to do a damn thing about it.

Last night I agreed to fill in a last minute class this morning. I agreed, forgetting that I’d be waking up an hour earlier, before the sun had even made his appearance. I wasn’t upset so much about the loss of that hour of sleep, I was upset that it was so unnecessary. I was upset because once again, some other force, that of the material, not natural world, is trying to undermine the beautiful and rhythmic flow of Mother Nature.

Why?! So we’ll have longer daylight hours. Well here’s the thing. We do not have more daylight. Just because you “take a foot off the top of the blanket and sew it to the bottom, doesn’t mean you have a longer blanket”. Just because you change our clocks, hoping that we’ll use that extra hour to go spend our money on unnecessary frivolities, or you think you’re “conserving” energy by allowing us to think it’s 8:00 when in fact it’s 7. Maybe we won’t turn on our lights until later? No. But we’ll leave them on just as long as we did before. Because our bodies are trying to listen to the cycles of the earth- not your damn regulatory control on our pocketbooks.

And thank you for taking away my precious morning sunrise, as I send my daughter off to school just past the break of dawn…

Stop.

Breathe.

When I got to the studio this morning I carried with me my frustration. Before my students arrived, I sat on my mat and took in my breath deep from my belly. I filled my heart with that breath and used it to relax my shoulders. I felt the sensations in my body and mind. I watched the motions of my thoughts as they bickered back and forth, between steadiness and chaos and allowed this all to happen without judgment. When my students arrived, they too were experiencing frustration, so we let ourselves express our feelings- and as a group agreed to allow our practice to melt away that tension and lift us up above and beyond the constraints of time.

By the end of class, we all felt much lighter.

So yes, my breath and my practice helped me move through the matter with more grace, but I am still frustrated with the system itself.

I understand that because I live and function in society, I have to follow the rules. I have to get my daughter to school on time, show up for work, and make my scheduled appointments. In order to do this, I need to let go and flow. While some people will feel like they’ve gained something by setting their clocks ahead, I feel like I’ve lost something…

And while some people might feel that I am overreacting or expressing too much rage on the subject, oh yogini of gratitude, I feel like I’m honoring my path and living my yoga. To hold back emotion, when it is not necessarily harmful to others, is to suppress the self. I am breathing. I am carrying on.

Kripalu yoga teaches brilliantly: Breathe, Relax, Feel, Watch, Allow.

I’m tired.

Even when I just had 2 luscious days at Valley View hot springs with my beloved husband. Soaking in the magic of the Mother, embraced in that sacred warmth of her earthly womb.

The Meadow Pond

And yes. I’m tired. But it’s more than that. I’m heavy. I’m empty. I’m seeking. I’m full. Can you be all of those things at once. I guess so, because I am.

In packing for the trip, thinking of gorgeous down time in a warm cabin in the middle of winter, I wanted to bring reading material that didn’t feel like work. Yes, I knew that I have a 6 page essay due by the end of February on my thoughts of Kripalu yoga and how I weave it into my everyday existence. I knew that I have piles of papers to complete to keep up with my Clayton degree. And goodness, all that time (1 entire day, 2 delicious nights) to focus on these things with complete clarity. Seemed like a good idea to me. But I really just didn’t want that pressure.

So what did I choose to bring for casual enjoyment reading? Yoga and the Quest for the True Self by Stephen Cope, and Healing with Whole Foods by Paul Pitchford. I find this ironic. The time went by entirely too fast, which was to be expected. I didn’t even crack Healing with Whole Foods. I did enjoy page after page of Cope’s book, however.

What I find interesting is that I chose to bring these books out of the sheer enjoyment that I get in reading them. But then I wonder, is my subconscious playing tricks on me? Really? Am I just so used to going going going that I couldn’t help but pick the books that would still apply to my work? I just don’t know.

But back to me being tired.

Niko planned this trip months ago. We had to book in advance to reserve the cabin. There was no telling how the weather was going to be or what we might have going on at the time. We just had to chance it. And goodness did we end up having a LOT going on. Niko has been tiling up in Monument and I have helped him as much as my own time has allowed (gigantic wet saw + lil ol’ me = EMPOWERING!) on top of 6 classes a week, the energy expenditure of building up a new business, PLUS Daisy’s hectic schedule with the play. It was a bit overwhelming. And though we both knew the time away would be wonderful, we were struggling to get out of here at a decent time.

This trip itself was fantastic. My mom came to stay with Daisy so I knew there would be no worries there. We took the dog with us because Niko simply felt calmer that way. In our house, dog really is man’s best friend.

Rainbow Eury Hostenhoffer

Valley View had had a pretty good snowfall the night before but the roads were decent and well plowed. We actually got lucky with the weather for late February. The first day was cold and overcast but the warm cabin totally made up for it. The second morning we woke to the sun shining through which was bliss. Check out was noon so we had a last soak and headed out. Stopped at a lil ‘country cookin’ restaurant called Loretta’s for some greasy breakfast which was heavy but delightful, and then made our way home.

So here’s where I believe my little exhaustion problem starts.

We got home around 6 Thursday evening. IMMEDIATELY Niko is right back to work, working on websites and such. And I am also quick to the return. Accessing what I’ve missed for Daisy, preparing my classes for the next morning, making dinner, talking to my mom. There was NO time for integration. No time for Savasana.

I really GOT Savasana here. Living my yoga off the mat.

Savasana is important, not only because we as a people are generally leading exhausted lives and we just need to REST, but because our bodies need that INTEGRATION time. Our mind, body and spirit need the time to process our practice.

So here it is, Sunday night, and neither my husband nor I have gotten that time to integrate our experience at the hot springs. And we REALLY needed it. We had an incredible time of connection. Magic happened there. I know it. But I haven’t had time to open my eyes to it yet. The weekend came swift with piles of snow, tile and grout, website construction, 2 back to back evenings of A Midsummer Night’s Dream (in which Daisy did fabulous by the way), a frustrating experience with my mother and my final weekend with my Kripalu mentoring program. Just as Savasana can create that deep healing for the nervous system, going without it can lead to an extreme feeling of disconnect.

So again. Tired. Yep.

Tomorrow is Monday. I have nothing planned. I’m hoping to finally get that Savasana.

Maintaining a home practice can be challenging for many of us. Teachers and students alike.

I remember going through my first training. I had a committed personal asana practice. It was a home practice, because at the time (and for most of my life really), I couldn’t afford to take yoga classes at a studio. I remember many of the other teachers-in-training were surprised at this, and mentioned that if it wasn’t for going ‘out’ to a studio, their practice would be non-existent. I know this to be true for many of us…

I suppose it’s similar to our diets. If we had a personal chef to prepare us fantastic and nutritious food, wouldn’t it be easier to eat healthier? So we go ‘out’ for yoga, we leave it to the teacher to work our bodies and nourish our minds. That is what they’re there for, right?

Well, in a sense, yes. That is what we’re here for. But at the same time, we are here to teach you that it is actually YOU that is your own best teacher. My goal as a yoga teacher is to inspire. Inspire YOU to live to your greatest potential and recognize your own divine nature.

If you make it to my Tuesday noontime Sadhana every week without fail, but that is the only time you get on your mat… of course I would congratulate you for honoring yourself that one day a week with that gift of yoga. I would also encourage you however, to develop some sort of home practice. They say it takes 21 consecutive days to develop a healthy habit so that it begins to flow freely and naturally. My suggestion: Start with a 5 minute a day pranayama practice. Sit quietly, preferably before you start your day, to connect with your breath. Perhaps you have 15 minutes to spare for a few rounds of Sun Salutes. You can begin anywhere. The point is, to just begin.

I love having you in class. I honor that sacred divine and intuitive teacher in each and every one of you. Lay out your mat tonight on your living room floor and go inward. Let your breath lead you into your most perfect asana practice yet.

Namaste’.

The conception:
Rhythm lies at the heart of play, and thus various rhythmic actions are the primordial forms of delight ~bird song, the chirping of crickets, the beating of hearts, the pulsation of laughter, the ecstatic loss of self in drumming and dancing… -Alan Watts